


Is There Life On Mars? (Or, the one in which Pete totally isn't a Timelord or anything)

by MagicalTreeStump



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalTreeStump/pseuds/MagicalTreeStump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete is an alien that crash lands in Patrick's pool.</p><p>Written for anon-lovefest earlier today. Posted on livejournal and deviantArt (and also my super, super secret tumblr).</p><p>Title stolen from David Bowie because I'm fucking perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is There Life On Mars? (Or, the one in which Pete totally isn't a Timelord or anything)

The first thing Patrick hears when he wakes up is a loud bang followed by an even louder splashing sound coming from his pool.

At first he just thinks it’s Kevin being an idiot, but it’s three am and Kevin’s not that stupid. He’s also at college, which is kind of a flaw in the whole blame-everything-on-Kevin-no-matter-what-happens plan.

Patrick should really stop falling asleep with the window open.

He gets dressed, pulls the first pair of shoes he can find on and grabs the hat that’s hanging from the back of his door and puts it on.

It’s three am and a school night, so whoever the fuck decided to fuck about with his pool is fucking dead to him.

Patrick goes quietly downstairs and hits the switch to the porch light as he goes out the back door.

The first thing he says is, “What the fuck?” And then, “this is going to be a bitch to clean up.”

There’s smoke or steam or something coming from the water, and there’s this _thing_ that Patrick is sure used to resemble something other than a huge, twisted, jagged piece of metal. There are even pieces of it scattered around the grass, each with their own small fire.

Patrick is so, so fucked. And he really needs to stop falling asleep with his windows open.

If he goes upstairs now, closes his bedroom window, puts his headphones in and crawls into bed maybe his parents won’t blame him for this mess. Hell, maybe his parents won’t even notice. It’s not like they use the pool, let alone the back yard.

Except now there’s another less huge but even more prolonged splash and some spluttering coming from the pool.

“Hey! Hey dude, a little help would be nice!” Patrick hears from the water.

Sure enough, as he gets closer, Patrick can see the shape of a person from behind the smoke.

Patrick kneels down at the edge of the pool, one hand on his knee the other gripping the side.

“Uh, hi?” he asks, hoping that this is some secondary high from whatever Joe was smoking earlier and that none of this is actually happening.

“Hey, finally,” the voice says again. “I thought you’d never come.”

And Patrick can totally see the someone much more clearly now. They have tattoos covering perfectly tan skin, a shitty haircut and a wide, bright smile.

“I’m Pete,” he says. “And if you help me out of this pool that would be fucking awesome.”

 

\--

 

“So, you’re telling me you crash landed you spaceship, _into my pool_ , and you want me to not punch you?” Patrick asks as Pete explains what happened.

“Yeah. If you could help me get my craft out your pool, that would be even better,” Pete grins.

“You crash landed your spaceship into my pool—on a school night—and you expect me to help you as well as not punch you? This is going to be a bitch to clean up. I mean— _fuck_. What am I going to tell my parents?”

“Dude, it’s alright. Once we get it out the pool my craft is totally self-repairing. It’ll be good as new.”

“Yes, but _my pool_.”

 

\--

 

Patrick goes and gets a piece of rope from the shed and comes back to find Pete once again emerging from the pool, smiling as always. This time he’s holding something and not trying to push his hands down Patrick’s pants.

“It’s a pully,” Pete says. “It’s automatic. We just need to attach this to your rope and then your rope to the craft, shove it in the ground and it does everything by itself; giving me all the more time to get to know your wonderful self.”

Patrick groans. Pete just grins even wider.

 

\--

 

Getting the craft out of the pool is surprisingly as easy as Pete said it would be. But it doesn’t make the fact that there are pieces of metal and glass and god knows what flying about now any easier to comprehend.

Self-repairing, right.

 

\--

 

“Hey, you never told me your name,” Pete says as he’s dragging Patrick inside his now repaired and hopefully fully functioning craft.

“It’s Patrick,” Patrick says as he looks around and shoves his hat further onto his head.

There are two bunks to each side of the narrow hallway, what looks like a small bathroom (toilet, a half-working shower and a sink) behind a sliding door fit with a frosted window, a kitchenette that looks mostly unused and a beanbag. To the front of the cabin there’s another sliding door that Pete had walked through earlier. Through the window Patrick can see lights, buttons and switches all belonging to a control board. There are compact, plastic steering wheels to each side of the board which look like they belong in a fighter jet, and even a joystick right in the middle. Through the large windscreen Patrick can see his backyard and now empty pool.

Nothing has ever looked more alien to Patrick.

“So, Patrick,” Pete says over the crackle of the much unneeded intercom. “Do you want to stay here, or come with me?”

Patrick blinks hard and swallows. He doesn’t really know what Pete means. Well, he knows what he thinks Pete means, but he’s pretty sure that it can’t be real. Any of this. It’s ridiculous.

“Who are you?” Patrick asks instead, ignoring Pete’s question for his own.

“I’m Pete. We’ve been over this.”

“Okay. What are you, then?”

“It’s… complicated,” Pete begins, obviously hoping Patrick would find that to be an acceptable answer. It’s not though, so Pete sighs and continues on.

“I’m an exile from so long ago. I thought they forgot though, because I’ve heard that happening to people before. Or you can turn up and ask for an appeal. I tried to go home, but I can’t. It doesn’t exist anymore. There’s a fuck load of nothing where it was before. I still had this wonderful ship though, and travelling always was so much more me than staying in one place for too long, anyway.”

“So, you’re an alien?” Patrick asks slowly, not really sure if he can believe what Pete’s saying.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Pete says. “Did I mention that I can travel in time?” he adds as an afterthought.

“Let me go get some clothes,” Patrick says. “If you leave without me, I’m fucking killing you.”

“We’re soul mates, Patrick. If I left without you I’d be stupid.”

 

\--

 

Maybe, Patrick thought as he sat next to Pete in the control room, keeping his windows open at night wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD THERE IS NO PORN I AM SO SORRY.
> 
> So Pete's a tiny bit Timelord. It's not like it's a surprise.
> 
> I also didn't learn grammar in school, so sorry for any and all mistakes.


End file.
